


Whilst The Wolves Are Away

by postjentacular



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Cunnilingus, F/F, HP Kinkfest 2018, HP: EWE, Lemon, Minor Bill Weasley/Fleur Delacour, Minor Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Oral Sex, PWP without Porn, Smut, clit spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 09:48:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13808670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postjentacular/pseuds/postjentacular
Summary: In which two witches entertain themselves while their (semi) werewolf husbands are off dealing with the full moon.





	Whilst The Wolves Are Away

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the mods for running such a good show and [Writcraft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/) for the prompt - there’s neither enough F/F nor enough clit-spanking in the HP fic-verse.
> 
> SPaGed and beta-ed by Spf. Ta ever so.

The moon hung full in the late August sky over Shell Cottage; the lights of Tinworth glowed a soft yellow aura over sand dunes in the distance. “Y’know,” Tonks said, twirling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers, just a touch too recklessly for someone who was all thumbs, “I'm always sure I can hear them when it's still like this. Howls carry? Right?”

“Pah!” Fleur drowned her incredulity with the dregs of her first glass of Pinot Grigio, “The men are halfway across this country, I think you are just a little too hopeful. You are missing the sex, _n’est-es pas_?”

Tonks spluttered her mouthful of wine, dropping her glass onto the cushioning-charmed grass at her feet, “No, well,” she picked up her now-empty glass, “maybe a little.”

“A little,” Fleur agreed, “maybe a little more than a little?”

“Maybe,” Tonks laughed.

Fleur leaned forward in her deckchair, unnecessarily conspiratorial under the safety and security of the cottage's nearly impenetrable wards, “The moon, it makes the men all beastly, fuck or die, you know? Then vamoose,” she waved her hand at the great outdoors, “he leaves me here. Horny and alone.” Tonks nodded in acknowledgement – _in agreement_. Bill had it easy, monthly rutting and a spot of steak tartare; the wolf might be in him too, but it was just a pup. Remus was too kind, too gentle – _too afraid_ – to let Moony out as the moon waxed gibbous.

“And you,” Fleur continued, “you are the same. I can see it, no matter whose eyes you are wearing,” she pointed her glass, underscoring her point, “you are the same.”

Tonks let a wave of silvery blonde ripple through her hair as she turned her now-deep blue eyes to Fleur, “Like this?”

“ _Oui_ , like that,” Fleur murmured low, as she reached up to tuck a silver strand behind Tonks’ ear.

Tonks leaned into her fingers ever-so slightly before catching herself, she tensed and inched away. “Fleur,” she asked carefully, “are you flirting with me?”

The unabashed smile that crept across Fleur’s lips didn’t have the slightest hint of guilt.

“Me‽” Tonks’ laughter shocked them both, drowning out the gentle ebb and flow of the sea. “You can’t flirt with me!”

Fleur leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers, “And why not?” her cocked eyebrow asked.

“You’re married! I’m married! We’re both married! To other people, I mean. And this is probably just your Veela malarkey getting all juiced. And just because you’re bloody gorgeous and I’ve thought about licking chocolate off that belly more than once doesn’t mean we sho– And we’ve had drink! _Drink_ drink! You've had twice as much as me! This is just the wine talking and you have a husband for the licking and the chocolate and- Ah fuck...” Tonks ran out of steam as she began disentangling herself from the deckchair she had no recollection of neither standing up from nor getting entangled in. “Fuck.”

Fleur gave the smallest of chuckles, “It is okay, you want nothing, we do nothing. It is late, perhaps time for bed?” She forced out a yawn, stretching her arms wide above her head causing her blouse to crawl up, exposing her tanned belly; more and more of her soft, lickable skin peeked out and lightly goosebumped in the gentle sea breeze. Her blouse stopped its travels just shy of her nipples, revealing the curves of her underboob as tanned her belly. The charms of a private beach.

“You minx!” Tonks hissed.

Fleur shrugged as she summoned their empty wine glasses and headed for the cottage, “Must be magic.” Inside she floated the glasses into the sink and perched on the edge of the kitchen table, “What is a minx?” she asked, head cocked in the very dictionary-definition of _coquettish_. “I do not know this word.”

Tonks left the half-empty wine bottle on the wooden countertop and kicked closed the door behind her, “Really?” She busied herself rinsing their now-empty glasses.

“Really,” Fleur agreed, “I really do not know this word.”

“Not what I was asking,” Tonks nodded over her shoulder at the scrap of cotton which had once been a respectable blouse, now infused with magic and barely covering Fleur’s décolletage. She turned back to the sink, washing her hands, reading the ingredients in the hand soap – _aloe, fancy that!_ – while she got her blush under control.

Fleur slid a little further back on the table and let out a gentle huff. Leaning back on her hands, her breasts stretched the one button keeping the remains of her blouse together almost to breaking point.

Hands, fingers and even her short, rounded nails scrubbed spick and span, blush under control, and wearing her own button nose and bubblegum pink spikes, Tonks was out of excuses. She turned, coming face-to-face with the cockiest of smirks.

_Game on._

“Minx.” Tonks reiterated. “Improper. Impudent.” She took a step forward between Fleur’s spread legs – which expertly illustrated that her ability to banish underwear wasn’t limited to bras. “Naughty,” Tonks finished, now close enough to feel every breath between them.

“Naughty,” Fleur agreed in a ragged whisper. “Bill spanks me when I’m naughty.”

“Well then,” Tonks said in her best attempt at Gryffindor – _in for a knut, in for a galleon_ – “that's something he and I have in common.”

Fleur flashed a wide bright smile and began to roll over. “Uh uh uh,” Tonks tsked, as she pulled her back into place with a firm hand on her hip, “it wasn’t your arse flirting with me, was it?” The first slap landed across her bellybutton and Fleur bit down on her bottom lip keeping her gasp in; the gasp escaped with the second.

Tonks slipped a finger under the sole button on Fleur’s blouse, it popped open with satisfying ease, the little button plink-plink-plinking across the oak floorboards to Merlin-knows where. Without their cotton constraint Fleur’s breasts drooped gently apart – _not even Veelas can defy gravity_ – her pink nipples crinkled to hardened nubs as Tonks’ fingers explored with gentle squeezes and soothing caresses. Fleur held her breath in anticipation, she knew what was coming, but neither the when nor the where.

It didn’t come.

Braced for a slap that was never coming, Fleur’s breath whooshed out as teeth grazed one nipple and the other was pinched. Hard. Tonks lapped gently at the grazed nipple, before she swapped. Bites and flicks, licks and pinches, kisses and squeezes; Tonks could have spent hours on the soft curves of breasts and belly but Fleur's hips bucked, once, twice, the third got the attention she'd been angling for.

“Y’ think I'd forgotten?” Tonks smiled, a predatory grin, as she ran gentle caresses along the gloriously soft skin of her firm thighs. She could feel Fleur’s muscles twitch in anticipation, fingers so close to their goal. The slap pulled a scream from Fleur, a delicious scream that was only bested by the one that followed the matching smack inside her other thigh.

“Okay?” Tonks asked, not expecting any answer more coherent than a moan or two and that's all she got. “Maybe I should take a look at what got you all worked up?” Without waiting for a reply, Tonks sunk to her knees, pushing Fleur's thighs wider as Fleur rolled her skirt up to her waist in assistance. “So helpful,” Tonks muttered as she settled on her heels. She placed her fingers gently on the reddening patches, “So pretty.” Rosy pink lips sat under natural curls, more golden than the silver on her head, but just as soft and long enough to tangle fingers in. Tonks took it all in, a mental snapshot of something to try later, something so different from her own usual utilitarian landing strip.

Another two smacks came without warning, each landing on the crease between thigh and crotch, a _bratatat_ of taps danced from hip to hip, then a peck of a kiss followed. Tonks’ fingers, cool against glowing skin, tangled in the almost golden curls and tugged.

The string of what could only have been expletives _en français_ rattled machine gun quick in, around and through Fleur's moans; Tonks’ womanhandling of parts most delicate clearly having the desired effect. Not loosening her grip, Tonks took advantage of the access granted by Fleur's bowed back and raised hips to land a smack over her folds. Lighter than the ones laid across her thighs it left no mark, but the breathy demand of “More,” left Tonks no other choice.

She slapped again, fingers landing in exactly the same place, then again, higher, lower, to the left, right, fast, slow. When she looked up, Fleur had her nipples clamped viselike between thumbs and forefingers. As arousingly debauched as it was, there was, Tonks thought, a better use for those fingers.

She grasped firmly around Fleur's wrists, halting their tugging and guiding them to where they were needed. Once her hands reached her mound, Fleur needed no instruction to slide them between her legs and spread her lips. Her clit stood proud, blushing red under its hood, framed by pale white fingers. Tonks circled the firm nub gently with her pinky finger then pushed back the hood. “Wider.” Fleur complied immediately, spreading her thighs and shifting her fingers ever so slightly to expose everything; a solitary solid tap right on her clit acknowledged the job well done. The jolt that shot through her bowed her back almost impossibly, and her thighs quivered; her urge to stay narrowly beating out her urge to come.

Tonks gave her the briefest of moments to collect herself before pushing her hips back down onto the tabletop and with a warm, firm hand, held her there. The first smack, directly on her exposed nub, ripped a scream from Fleur that could've shattered glass. The second and third were almost soothing in their quick succession. Conscious to avoid a rhythm Tonks peppered thighs and hips, mound, clit and lips with a full percussive symphony until Fleur was hanging on the edge with barely a fingernail. Until she clamped futilly around thin air. Until her whole body sung with need.

As Fleur's fingers quivered, the restraint screaming out across her entire being, Tonks stopped. Leaning back on her ankles she trailed fingers slowly down Fleur's thighs coming to a rest behind her knees, “Oh,” she said, ever the terrible actress, “I seem to have made a bit of a mess.”

Fleur’s heaving chest and glistening folds agreed.

“I should kiss it better.”

Fleur hadn't got to the end of her _oui_ before the tingle of a prophylaxis charm shimmered over her folds, gentle lips found her clit and nibbled; two fingers slid home around her clenching walls. She came hard, fast, and messy; her juices dripped down Tonks’ chin as her surprisingly dexterous tongue tried to catch every last tangy drop. Tonks’ curled fingers carried her through her orgasm, gentle strokes across battered skin, butterfly kisses down powerful thighs.

As she came down, Fleur pushed herself back up on her elbows. Tonks still knelt between Fleur's legs, a hand shoved unceremoniously down the front of her jeans rubbing furiously. “You ‘aven't?”

“Almost,” Tonks panted, “almost.”

Fleur pulled herself upright ‘til she was once again perched on the table, “Up,” she demanded. Tonks struggled to her feet, trying not to lose her rhythm as she fell forward; the crook of Fleur’s shoulder the perfect height for her to bury her face in. Her jeans slipped down her narrow hips as Fleur pulled back just enough to see the cotton of her pants stretched thin over rapid fingers. Fleur murmured something low in French – could’ve been an old family recipe for _poulet à la bretonne_ for all Tonks knew – but it was encouragement enough and she came, gasping and gulping for breath.

“Was that good?” Fleur asked in the tone of someone who already knew the answer. She felt a smile and the puff of agreement from Tonks, still buried in her shoulder.

Tonks shifted slightly to pull back and looked up at Fleur, blinking rapidly as her eyes refocused in the light, “More chocolate, next time.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Standard fanfic disclaimer:** If you recognise it, it belongs to J.K. Rowling; this is just fanfic for nothing other than entertainment purposes.


End file.
